


Least missed, least loved, last forgiven

by LiveOakWithMoss



Series: Silmarillion Prompts [23]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Can I just warn for...Nargothrond? Like in general?, Father-son discord, Gen, Implied Relationships, M/M, Tyelpe's life is fucking tragedy, Unrequited Love, nobody's happy, political maneuvering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 03:43:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3514082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Celebrimbor and the shifting tensions of Nargothrond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Least missed, least loved, last forgiven

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Beleriandings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/gifts).



> 0\. The prompt was for Tyelpe in Nargothrond, before or after renouncing his father, bonus Orodreth, "all the angst". I tried to cover my bases.

It is not long after they arrive in Nargothrond that Celebrimbor notices how Orodreth watches them, and notes the dislike and distrust in his face. It is not long after this realization that he notes how Orodreth’s hand drops to his sword hilt whenever Curufin speaks, whenever Celegorm laughs. (Even when there is no sword by his side, Celebrimbor sees Orodreth’s fingers twitch to his hip, a reflexive seeking of a weapon; but then, it is rare that Orodreth goes unarmed.) Celebrimbor wonders if Finrod views them with as much ill-favor, but when he searches Finrod’s face, all he sees are clear blue eyes, thoughtful and deep, and a warm smile. He knows Finrod hides much…but somehow, he is grateful he can see nothing of a secret loathing written on those fine features.

_If you hate us, I would rather be able to pretend I know nothing of it._

It is not long before Celebrimbor learns to flinch every time his father speaks, and his fingers tremble with suppressed tension whenever the baying of hounds signals Celegorm’s return to the halls. He learns to hate the looks that Edrahil and Orodreth exchange each time Curufin and Finrod engage in some debate over the council table.

Yet more he learns to hate the times his father’s chambers stand empty, and his suspicions grow shadow-long about the hours Curufin spends in conference with Finrod. He learns to hate the electricity he can taste sparking between his father and the King of Nargothrond, a bitter ozone taste, a blood metal taste, and he knows Orodreth trusts ever less, and even Celegorm narrows his eyes at his brother, and spits mockingly on the flagstones of Finrod’s halls. Curufin pays no heed; no more does Finrod.

_I wish you hated him more._

But Finrod does not seem to grow to hate Curufin more – indeed, Celebrimbor doubts he ever did – and so instead, Celebrimbor grows to hate his father.

_Ever you have doomed me._

(He does not hate his father)

(He wishes he did)

(It would make what comes easier)

Finrod is lost, and Celegorm’s voice rings loud through the halls (jubilant, Celebrimbor thinks, while his father is as bloodless and tight-lipped as ever), and at last Orodreth draws his sword, and Celebrimbor knows, at this moment, that the time has come.

As his uncle’s hound will, he withdraws his loyalty from those he arrived with. Like Huan, when he speaks, he speaks not to his master, but to another.

_I renounce them._

Orodreth accepts his loyalty, and his sword, but his eyes hold none of Finrod’s warmth.

_No one loves a traitor._

Celegorm and Curufin leave, and Celebrimbor remains, and he thinks with bitter surety that of the things they lost in Nargothrond, he will be the least missed.

 


End file.
